


Something Else to Talk About

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Jack continues to be smitten and Daniel continues to be amazed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Else to Talk About

**Author's Note:**

> A schmoopy sequel to the equally schmoopy Table for Two

Ella on the boom box, a glass of Veuve Clicquot in one hand and Daniel laid beside him, lit only by the light from the dancing flames in the fireplace. Jack was a happy man.

He was also slightly drunk, full of the most wonderful food and lazily aroused. But it was the kind of arousal that was banked, on the back burner, pleasantly humming in the background and ready to spark if and when he wanted it to.

Jack wanted it to. Just not yet.

The night had been perfect. The food had been pretty much the best he’d ever tasted. Daniel had been great company, relaxed, happy, and the look in his eyes when Jack told him of his retirement plans and the other reason for the big night out … it had pretty much taken Jack out at the weather-contingent knees.

Jack knew he was loved. But every now and then, the fact that this complex, beautiful, precious soul sometimes let down his guard enough to really show it just blew him away.

Now, in the early hours, they were lying facing each other, on their sides, on a soft blanket that was usually reserved for picnics, in front of a blazing log fire in Jack’s house; the house he’d rented out for a while rather than sell in a last-minute change of heart because he couldn’t face losing it.

Deep inside, he always associated this house with the one person who was able to fill the empty spaces, drive away the loud silences, to make the place he lived the placed he _lived. _ How the _hell_ was he supposed to say goodbye to that?

His idle thoughts were pushed to one side when Daniel ran a finger down his chest, scratched his shirt lightly, repeatedly, in a gesture that suggested a sudden modicum of tension.

“You’re not pissed about the hotel room are you?” Daniel asked, tentatively, his fingers stilling over Jack’s heart, his eyes focused on the soft brown silk of the shirt.

“Well,” Jack sighed, heavily, trying for mildly pissed but fooling no one. “ I had big plans for the frame of that four-poster bed. Man, it was solid. Endless possibilities.”

Daniel chuffed a little laugh then fell silent. Eventually, as Ella launched into My Baby Just Cares For Me, he said, “I just wanted to come home. I don’t … can’t really explain it. Just wanted to be here. Just us.” He was still studying the shirt material as though it were more interesting than the most fascinating of archaeological finds.

Jack thought about that for a second. Thought about what Daniel was really saying. That being here, being together, was all that mattered. That everything else was just icing on an already delicious cake.

“I should warn you, Daniel. I don’t do room service, unless of it’s of the sexual kind. And there won’t be a chocolate on your pillow either.” Jack took a swallow of champagne and put his now empty glass down. The bottle they’d brought with them from the restaurant was upturned in an ice bucket by the sofa. God, but the champagne was good, and God but he didn’t want this night to end.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to live with that.” Daniel raised his eyes to meet Jack’s gaze. Jack actually felt his heart stutter. He had it bad. This wasn’t news.

Jack smiled. “Nope. I’m not pissed. If you want to be here then I want to be here. Besides, what can pristine Egyptian cotton offer that this years-old, ratty, in parts threadbare blanket can’t?”

Daniel laughed out loud, a lovely melodic sound, eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. He really was beautiful.

“Do not diss the blanket, Jack. If this blanket could talk …” Daniel ran a hand appreciatively over it.

“My career would have been over months ago,” Jack said, quietly, threading his fingers through Daniel’s. They stroked the blanket together.

“Remember when we took this up to the lake and you spilled beer all over it in your unseemly haste to get into my pants?” Daniel asked, watching their hands continue their lazy movement.

“August 1,” Jack said, straight away, without apparent thought.

Daniel looked up at him, eyebrows arching, his mouth pursing. “Jesus. How do you remember all this stuff?”

“I’m career military, Daniel. Was. I remember details.”

Daniel tilted his head, eyes mischievous. “The time Sam asked what the unidentified wet marks were when she and Tealc’ joined us for a picnic in your backyard and you hadn’t been able to contain yourself while we were setting things up?”

Jack winced, the embarrassment all too fresh, all these months later. “August 19.”

Daniel licked his lips. “The time you whispered ‘sweetheart’ when you came so hard you clenched your hands into claws on the blanket and made this small tear, here?” He moved their joined hands to a tiny hole in the material and stroked there, softly. So softly that Jack – defenses weakened by champagne and too much love – felt tears welling.

Jack swallowed. “September 14,” he whispered.

His mouth was taken in a slow, wet kiss that deepened by the second. He closed his eyes, unable to stop the soft, desperate sounds escaping from his constricted throat. He lost himself in the meeting of quietly demanding lips, reveled in the stifled moans coming from Daniel.

Eventually, they broke contact but stayed close, their breathing fast and shallow, the banked arousal sparking into something alive and wonderful.

Jack brushed his mouth against Daniel’s, letting the words come, letting them flutter and whisper against those full, kiss-swollen lips. “I remember it all, Daniel. And if that makes me a fucking wuss then so be it. Because I don’t want to forget a single moment of us. We waited too long.” And then he couldn’t speak at all.

Daniel kissed him again and pushed him slowly down on to his back, kissing and kissing as they went.

Jack looked up into eyes filled with nothing but love.

“I don’t want you to forget. Anything. Ever. Thanks for tonight, Jack. It’s been wonderful. Really,” Daniel said, his hand cupping Jack’s face.

Jack smiled, and he knew everything he was feeling was showing on his face. And that was OK. Now, with Daniel, that was OK.

“I think there’s only way to celebrate our anniversary,” Daniel said, shifting a little to slide his leg over Jack’s.

“Oh yeah?” Jack felt his dick fill at the low, husky tone of Daniel’s voice.

“Wanna make me cry?”

Jack smiled again. It was becoming a permanent fixture on his face. He liked that a lot. “Only in the nicest possible way,” he answered. “Want to take it to the bedroom?”

“Nuh-uh,” Daniel said, sliding all his dense, wonderful weight on top of Jack. “Let’s give this blanket something else to talk about.”


End file.
